Kenshin Champloo
by tnkim
Summary: A crossover between Samurai Champloo and Rurouni Kenshin. A superb match-up between the masters of the blade.  Kenshin during the revolution and Mugen, Jin, and Fuu on their way to find the Sunflower Samurai.   What will happen?


**This is my first fan fic. Thanks for reading! I hope I can get feedback from you guys! :D**

**Oh, one final request. Listen to _Mystline - Nujabes_ while reading because this is the song I dedicate the story to. Thanks a lot!**

The Flame

Light reached even the darkest of corners and spread like a wake from a dreamless sleep. It was almost as if sight sprung immediately into life. Lanterns began to appear as the moonlight gazed solemnly upon the cloudless sky.

There was no doubt the presence of samurai; samurai of different convictions.

As the three wanderers presided into Edo like the spontaneous shadows of chirping crickets, women and children rushed out. Alarms were sounded, but were drowned away from the voices of shrill screams. It crawled into the ears of Fuu; her eyes glistening like the sparkles of glowing stars. She stood there, awed in disbelief of the city's current state, its obliteration; fires unable to distinguish flesh from wood, and the undeniable scent of streaming tears. Bloodied wardrobes were fashioned onto new widows like small flames that stained each building. It was apparent however, that Mugen and Jin were not frightened, though their reactions were contrasting. They stared at the battlefield; sons of warriors carelessly displaced on top of their sweat and blood, husbands hacked away like pieces of firewood, and dreams senselessly floating as if carried by the smoke.

"This is kinda exciting."

Mugen smiled heartlessly, a look no man would pity. Although hatred fueled his courage, and the hatred seen in the milieu was omnipresent, he strayed from anymore offensive comments towards the circumstances. Fuu fashioned her eyes upon him and with concern in her voice, mentioned of the sunflower samurai. The speech on their purpose of the journey remained the focal point of her distaste in harm, a reflection of her lonely past, obvious to any soul who suffered, and oblivious to any man who was ignorant.

"Shut up, I'm not going to break your stupid promise," he retorted casually, his poise stationed aloof. This surprised Fuu, for the surprise was not because of his answer, but because of the unprovoked tone in his voice. Mugen's smile was wiped off, scaring her of many cynical possibilities.

She bit her lip.

"Don't worry," Jin started, lifting his fingers to push his glasses, which climbed up his nose, "But if we do want to avoid conflict, we should leave."

Fuu smiled; a hope that glimmered like diamonds. Traveling with her two companions however, helped her to become less naïve.

"Hell no, I'm going to find out what this is all about."

"Mugen!" Fuu screamed and jin whispered together, a choir which sang a sad song. Men in armor ran across the street in formation, yelling directions of the assassin's location. Their worried faces were not able to mask the bravado; fear soaked within the very pupils of their eyes. Despite their appearances, the soldiers desperately searched, even if it meant terrible deaths, for that was the way of the samurai. Fallen comrades at every boulevard were no deterrent, as broken glass was stepped upon without second thought.

Suddenly, the battle cry of many men echoed through a narrow alley, capturing the trio's attention. Mugen leaped first, and Jin followed, leaving Fuu only able to spectate.

Once the two samurai arrived, soldiers fell to their feet, slumped, cold, and dead. A single man with a scar on his cheek stayed vigilant upon the slaughtered as the blood from undifferentiated bodies rolled off his sharp blade. His eyes slowly trained onto Mugen and Jin, restlessness and a heavy heart decoded. The scars on the assassin's cheek were fresh, almost as if it were recent cuts or an open wound unable to heal.

The flames circulated around the buildings till its collapse, as the moon stayed pure through the event, unable to express agony or horror, rather timeless and peaceful.

But like the moon, the assassin's stance roared confidence.

"He's just a boy," Mugen exclaimed disappointed.

The boy, reserved, rotated the angle of his sword, and loosely held onto the hilt.

"Come."

Mugen smiled, running towards him, soon jumping into their air as if he came off a spring, and drew his sword.

The two swords pounded, as they both flew back and struck again. Mugen rolled to his side then tried an uppercut with his blade, barely missing the assassin's chin.

The boy, noticing an opening in Mugen's defense, launched forward with his katana, but with surprise, only hit the bottom of Mugen's sandal.

They each took a couple steps back, and regained their balance.

"Not bad, kid," Mugen said with a grin, his heart starting to race from excitement. He examined the dead bodies and continued, "It's no wonder you were able to kill these morons."

The boy firmly held onto his katana, and lunged ahead.

"I have no time to speak to you government officials."

Mugen quickly cartwheeled to the left and dodged the attack, where he twirled his legs and spun them around like a windmill. The assassin was excellent in his reaction, and blocked the iron-strapped sandals with his blade.

"He must be a revolutionist," whispered Jin, examining the fight. His eyes lowered, and advanced, "But how did they get such a skilled fighter?"

The boy suddenly stepped back, and with a God-like speed, he swept his sword from left to right. He skidded a few meters away, kneeing down.

Mugen looked behind him, staring at the boy's back. He then began to inspect his blade, where drops of blood began to the slide off.

Mugen started to cough, as he noticed a part of his chest was fissured by the boy's sword. He fell to the ground, holding onto the hilt of his blade.

"Mugen," Jin uttered, closing his eyes and imagining the speed of the fatal blow.

The assassin slowing ascended, and began to walk away.

They were cold… but it was because they were alone in the world, a paradox that was common, a loneliness that differed from story, yet equivalent in emotion. They each suffered inexplicable pain, where their pride manifested, and indeed, where the Japanese spirit awakened.

"I'm not… finished with you…"

Mugen slowly rose, as the blood rushed out of his chest.

The boy stopped.

"I have only used this attack several times and nobody has survived its blow," the assassin turned around and paced himself towards Mugen, "Except you."

Mugen smiled as blood ran down the side of his chin.

As the boy came swords-length from him, he clenched onto his katana for the finale. The wind began to push the charcoals as it flew in bright orange like dancing fireflies. Although the air was stiff, smoke started to disperse the ashes as a winter storm. This was it.

"Stop!"

Fuu slid into Mugen's body and held him close. Her tears strolled down her face, which tears, a physical representation of her bodyguards' importance, glistened marvelously against the fire.

"Stop… please stop."

The assassin's appearance suddenly changed, his eyes brimming innocence like a child, yet sadness like an old man. The couple became a reflection of what was once his not too long ago, but like all tragedies, ending abruptly. He withdrew his sword and held tightly onto his sheath.

"I have realized you are not part of the Shinsengumi, so I will not kill you."

The boy, looking up at the night sky, stars cloaked within the celestial blanket, slowly stated, "Protect your woman, because she is the most important."

Mugen, irritated by the turn of events, sighed.

"This ugly broad is not my woman."

The wind slowed down.

"Assassin, why do you fight if that sword technique teaches of tranquility?"

The dead bodies started to catch fire as the buildings crashed down upon them. The boy turned to Jin with a calm a lake cannot match.

"How do you know of this technique, ronin?"

Jin lifted his glasses, as Mugen and Fuu eavesdropped.

"Every samurai knows of it well. A dying breed of course, the Hiten-Mitsurugi."

The boy closed his eyes; he was able to see the blood of thousands stained on his hands. But as he opened them, a firefly landed in his palm, the light it generated glowing green.

"Soon, every skilled swordsman will die along with their techniques, and the tranquility each sword once promised will be then realized…"

The boy stopped and faced Jin, as the firefly raced away. "The only swordsmen of our caliber who is a threat in the new world will be the men who cannot let go of the past."

The assassin then turned his attention to the burning buildings.

"We will all perish under the flame."

Jin waited for the wind to cease as the pendulum of time slowed to a halt. There was silence between the two samurai, and although their beliefs differed, they both respected the other.

"What is your name, assassin?"

Unexpectedly, a group of soldiers from the end of the street appeared, barking, "Kenshin!"

The boy turned around, as the soldiers rushed towards him.

"We must leave. The shinsengumi brought reinforcements."

Kenshin sighed and agreed. He looked back at the three wanderers and bid them farewell. As he dashed off, Mugen yelled his egocentric remarks that gave rise to the early sun.

It was then that Samurai Champloo and Rurouni Kenshin have collided.


End file.
